Despite his earlier resolution, Damon glanced again at Alexia. She, too, was staring at the crowd, a faint frown on her face. She looked at Damon and cast him a puzzled glance.
Neither one of them had much time to consider the implications of the Opiri’s strange behavior, for the female Opir whom Sergius had sent away was returning, without her helmet and suit. Her pale hair was loose around her shoulders, and her honey-colored skin glowed with health and well-being.
She was not Opir, but human. She walked past Damon without a glance and stopped before Alexia.
“My name is Emma,” she said, offering her hand. “You’re welcome here.”
Alexia stared at Emma’s hand and then looked toward Damon in confusion.
“Don’t look at him,” Emma told her. “You are no longer his property.” She took Alexia’s arm in a firm but gentle hold. “What is your name?”
“Alexia.” She hesitated. “Alexia Fox.”
“You are safe here, Alexia Fox.” Emma tugged on Alexia’s arm. “Come, now.
Everything will be all right.”
“Let her go,” Damon said, starting toward them. Sergius grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.
“Don’t even think of trying to keep her,” the Opir warned. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
Damon wrenched free of Sergius’s hold and spun to face him. “I claimed her fairly, in challenge. You have no right.”
“No right? Where is your sigil of ownership?” He spoke again before Damon could find an answer. “You do not have one, because you are Darketan, and your claim would never be sanctioned.”
Damon knew there had always been a chance that his and Alexia’s plan would involve separation, but he hadn’t expected the challenge to come so soon. He backed out of Sergius’s reach, swept his gaze over the other Opir guards and then met Alexia’s eyes.
Her expression was strained as she tried to determine what her next move should be.
Damon had no intention of leaving her alone with Opiri who would be eager to claim such a prize, even if they would be breaking the Treaty by doing so.
Since they had already broken the Treaty merely by existing, that would seem a very small infraction.
“I said I had information to give you,” Damon said, “information that may save your settlement. But my price is the girl.”
“You cannot have her,” Emma said, stepping between him and Alexia. “You may have forced her to submit to you, but that’s over now.”
The confidence of her words left Damon at a loss. She spoke as if she had power in the colony, and she had gone out with the other Opir guards, disguised as one of them, to confront him and Alexia. But while it was clear human serfs were much more leniently treated here than most in Erebus, Emma’s assertiveness went far beyond the privilege permitted a well-favored servant.
“I will Challenge anyone who attempts to take her,” Damon said in his coldest voice.
“Even if you did,” Sergius said behind him, “no one here would accept. And you will not get the chance to make such a Challenge.”
Damon worked his hands into fists, carefully noting the positions of the Opiri around him. The humans would be no trouble, but the Opiri would likely shoot him before he got anywhere near Alexia. They wouldn’t even bother to pit their superior strength against his.
He had made a terrible mistake in bringing Alexia here, a miscalculation for which he could not forgive himself.
“If you move against any of us,” Sergius said, “you will die. But the dhampir will live no matter what happens to you. Make your choice.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Alexia cried, breaking away from Emma. “Please.”
As much as she tried to sound frightened and uncertain, Alexia was incapable of behaving like a serf or a beaten prisoner. Her voice was too strong, her manner too bold.
Everyone looked at her, some with surprise, others with calculation. Emma regarded her face with extreme interest.
“He said he found you with an Opir. Is that true?” she asked Alexia. “Did he challenge for you and win?” She leaned close, her voice soft with concern. “What did he do to you?”
“He saved my life,” Alexia said, meeting Damon’s eyes.
They gazed at each other, and Damon felt as if they stood alone again in their hilltop camp, speaking as equals, bickering and threatening and making love.
Making love. A human phrase that had no equivalent in the ancient Opir tongue.
“You owe him nothing,” Emma said. “Whatever you need you will find here.” She tried to take Alexia’s arm again, but Alexia backed away.
“Why should I trust you?” she asked. “You’re from Erebus. I was taken...” Her lower lip trembled. “All of you are alike!”
“You’re wrong.” Emma held out her hands, palms up. “We want to help you.”
“Then let me go!”
“That would be too dangerous for you, Ms. Fox,” Emma said. “But you will not be treated as a prisoner here.”
“Do you speak for the rest of them?” Alexia demanded, gesturing toward the Opiri who had gathered around them. “For them? ”
“I swear you will be left alone.”
“I’ll go with you,” Alexia said, “if you swear you won’t harm Damon.”
Frowning, Emma looked at Sergius, who inclined his head.
“He won’t be harmed,” Emma said. “Come, now.”
With a last, hooded glance at Damon, Alexia went with the other woman, her feet dragging with reluctance. Damon knew she was afraid for him. She understood that both their positions were precarious, and the colonists were making no secret of their hostility toward him. But she knew that she would better be able to gain intelligence if she pretended to cooperate.
Damon couldn’t blame her. But their separation was doing something to his heart, threatening to pull it through his ribs and out of his chest.
“Where are you taking her?” he asked Sergius.
“That is no longer your concern,” the Opir snapped, abruptly switching to the ancient Opir tongue. “Emma may have promised that you would not be harmed, but ‘harm’ is a matter of interpretation.”
“I don’t expect you to abide by the word of a serf,” Damon said with unfeigned scorn.
“I see you will have to be taught to speak with respect.”
“To you?” Damon asked with a curl of his lip. “An Opir who will not accept the challenge of a Darketan?”
Sergius seized Damon’s arm in a punishing grip, jarring Damon’s nearly healed wrist.
“You aren’t worth it,” he said. He removed a short, dark rod from his belt: a prod, used on uncooperative or rebellious serfs. “Move ahead of me.”
Damon knew that resisting would be worse than foolish, yet a familiar anger was festering inside him, the anger he had felt when they had taken Eirene away, when he had believed Alexia might die, and again when he had found her with Lysander. It made his fists clench and his muscles harden, his vision grow sharper and his sense of smell become so acute every scent was like an assault.
“Get going,” Sergius said, poking at Damon’s spine with the prod.
Damon moved, looking for Alexia. The women had crossed the perimeter and were walking toward one of the dormitories. Sergius steered Damon toward a small wooden building that stood apart from the rest.
“Where are you taking me?” Damon asked.
“To a holding cell.”
Digging his boot heels into the dirt, Damon came to a halt. “Tell Theron I am here. He will see me.”
Sergius pushed his visored face close to Damon’s. “You have a choice, Darketan.
You’re less than nothing in Eleutheria, and my authority overrides Emma’s. Do as you are told.”
Damon hardly heard him. Eleutheria, he called this place. It meant “freedom.”
Freedom from Erebus. But not for him, or Alexia.
“You have one more chance,” Sergius said. “If you—” Before he had finished speaking, Damon was spinning, striking out at the least protected part of Sergius’s body. The side of his hand slashed into Sergius’s neck in a disabling blow. The Opir staggered back, choking and coughing as he reached up to protect himself. Damon ripped the prod out of Sergius’s hand.
He had no chance to use it. There was a flash of movement behind him, and he felt a stunning blow to the back of the head.
After that there was nothing but darkness.